


A Warm Winter

by In_love_with_writing002



Series: When Buttercups Wither Verse [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Feelings, Gen, Ghost! Jaskier, God! Jaskier, Kaer Morhen, Power Discovery, Purification games, Repressed emotions literally exploding, Snuggling, Unintentional Emotional Manipulation, it’s all positive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: A Winter in Kaer Morhen after Jaskier gets his body back— a time where his work can be put on hold, or he can at least relax a little while the Witchers in his charge settle down. And in doing so, he discovers a new power...
Relationships: Jaskier & Witchers
Series: When Buttercups Wither Verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787980
Comments: 67
Kudos: 386





	A Warm Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this one written for a while now and I totally forgot to publish it!!
> 
> I’d like to throw in a mild warning for unintentional manipulation, though it resolves itself and is pretty much fine in the end.

It’s Winter, which means a trip to Kaer Morhen, as it had for Jaskier when he was still alive. He still makes the trip with Geralt, as is tradition.

He remembers that the trip there was harsh and unforgiving, the path cold to the point of constant shivers, the trail rough to the point of blisters on his feet that were opened and bloodied by the time he reached the keep.

Making the trip as a god, he hardly feels the cold, only aware of it because of the snow landing on his skin, the way his breath fogged in front of him. He practically dances over the ground, feeling light and giddy with the weather swirling into a storm. Geralt, who had been forced to listen to his complaints in his life, now looks jealous as Jaskier dons his fashionable doublets usually reserved for the warmer months.

Kaer Morhen is as welcoming as ever, which is to say, not very. The people are as entertaining as they’ve ever been, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir, Geralt, Coen, and Jaskier the attendees for the season.

“Can you do magic?” Eskel asks, because it’s a reasonable thing to ask. Reluctantly, Jaskier has to say— no, he can’t. All he knows that he can do is find purities and impurities and enhance them.

It begins a sort of experimental game— Can Jaskier make flint out of sediment rocks? (Yes) can Jaskier make steel from iron bar? (Yes) Jaskier also can’t touch the rum or moonshine, because he turns it into alcohol, water, and sugarif it touches him. He’s still working out the kinks of the new form, it’s a work in progress.

\- -

Jaskier does recognize one thing he can do, fairly early on. It’s a little different than he’s used to, because it deals with people, but he can enhance emotions when they creep up into people’s hearts, until they become overwhelmed by it. When Geralt and Eskel return, blessedly uninjured and safe from dispatching a harpy nest at the beginning of the month, Vesemir cries in relief because Jaskier is happy to see them back. 

“Ah, he’s probably had too many spirits,” Lambert says, patting the weepy old witcher on the shoulder awkwardly. Jaskier knows that’s not true— Some part of his aging soul can almost sense what each of his charges is doing at one time or another. He realizes he’s let his power out a little and reels it in, and the tears stop.

“Get offa me,” Vesemir grumbles to Lambert, shoving his hand off. Jaskier doesn’t say anything because he uses it so unthinkingly.

Drunken chuckles turn into full-blown howls of laughter that echo through the keep when Jaskier feels amused. Eskel and Geralt laying near each other by the fire in the library turns into full-blown cuddle piles because Jaskier feels particularly affectionate and fond of them all. Friendly Gwent matches turn into wrestling when Jaskier’s competitive spirit gets riled up.

It’s not like they go _ignored_ , either. Oftentimes the return to normal means awkward apologies or shoves to get each other away, though they get less frequent as the season progresses. The first time Jaskier sees Coen and Lambert laying against each other his inhuman heart nearly bursts with joy. (It makes the pair of them hold each other closer and Jaskier has to pull himself back in before someone else runs in to join in the affection.

It’s at its worst when someone leaves or returns, though he hasn’t had any of them start crying again.

“Be safe,” Eskel tells Lambert, squeezing his shoulder to wish him goodbye on a Warg hunt. Jaskier’s heart aches with the tenderness, and the pair of them— in front of everyone— hug tightly. Jaskier feels a peace settle over him then, the wave over as soon as it came, but he sees the other three look down at their medallions suspiciously.

“Oh,” Jaskier says sheepishly as Vesemir raises a brow at him. He just shrugs, unsure of what to say. It’s not as though he’d done anything _wrong_ , after all. “Sorry.” Jaskier watches Eskel and Lambert separate and he still feels that _ache_ —

But he pushes it away.

\- -

It’s the end of the winter, which means a return to the path for the witchers and Jaskier. Though their journeys will separate them for a while, Jaskier can still visit when he wants to check in, or when he’s feeling particularly worried.

The goodbye is the hardest part for him, having trained with himself to make sure his feelings don’t get in the way of their goodbye, Jaskier is fidgety with unused energy, barely-suppressed want to rain love and affection on his charges.

They’re all leaving on the same day, which is a little strange, but Jaskier accepts it— At least he doesn’t have to say goodbye more than once. Still, he can feel the thrum of suppressed emotions inside of him. Has Vesemir told them about his ability? No, Lambert at the very least would have brought it up, or they would have behaved differently around him.

“Jaskier,” Jaskier looks up from where he’s staring at his twitching hands, and sees Vesemir is holding out a hand, other arm arched in the air— A _hug._ He’s asking for a hug. “It’s a good time for them- _us,_ to be emotional, I think.” Jaskier doesn’t know how to reply, he’s stricken, he has frozen his emotions with the winter and now isn’t sure if he even knows how to thaw.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Lambert says it, gives his shoulder a gentle shove. Jaskier lets out a shocked little sound.

“You knew?”

“I’ve never seen a witcher cry,” Coen says. “You’re the only thing that’s different.” Jaskier’s chest warms, and he can feel the echoing thrum of his energy, pulsing out in the immediate area, stronger after being pent up for so long. He sees Eskel stumble a little and almost winces when he remembers his sensitivity to magic— But Geralt is there immediately, helping him stand, and he sends Jaskier an encouraging smile. _A smile._

Jaskier sighs, releasing the tension from his shoulders, and is immediately shocked when the snowy grass around them erupts into wildflowers. He thinks he’s going to pass out. He can see the others follow him when he falls on the ground, piling over him and hugging him, tears in their eyes, smiles on their faces, arms out for easy, affectionate embraces.

Jaskier basks in it, while the buttercups cushion their fall, and Jaskier is in one place but he is _everywhere,_ and he feels lost, he feels pure in a way he hasn’t been in since he was just a vengeful spirit.

But this is _so_ much better than being angry.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading!!


End file.
